Riddle Me This
by Five Minutes Til Bedtime
Summary: A mishap in Charms causes some problems in Hogwarts. Namely, an incomprehensible Harry Potter.


Title: **Riddle Me This **

Summary: A mishap in Charms causes some problems in Hogwarts. Namely, an incomprehensible Harry Potter.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Word Count: 2,005

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><p>AN This was inspired by an episode of Star Trek in which the crew meets a race that only speak in metaphors. It is all a bit fun isn't it?

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><p>In retrospect, he really should have known better. Neville was notorious for producing unexpected (and unwanted) spell results. But he had just seemed so lonely and sad, standing there by himself, that Harry hadn't been able to help himself. How was he supposed to know that Goyle had stolen a first years wand and was foolishly playing around with it…even as the wand resisted him, jerked out of his hand and –<p>

Well, it was a perfect storm.

The spells clashed together. Neville's odd, bluish charm mashing with Goyle's purple spell. There was a brief second of struggle, as if the two spells were battling it out for domination, before they abruptly swerved, an odd mix of blue and purple slamming into Harry's face of open surprise, hitting him right on the lips.

Silence in the classroom. Every student was watching Harry who hadn't dropped his surprised expression and was feeling his tingling lips with an unsteady hand.

Flitwick, who stood at the front of the classroom on a towering stack of books, squeaked out, "Oh, dear!"

"Harry," called Hermione, hurrying over to him, followed on the heals by Ron. "Are you alright?"

Harry, who didn't _feel _anything wrong with him other than a fair bit of shock, opened his mouth and said, "Boy, his dinner kept."

_Oh dear _indeed.

* * *

><p>"I haven't the faintest idea how to fix it, Albus," said a rather harried Madame Pomfrey, as she paced up and down the infirmary. The thin lines of her eye brows twitched and furrowed, straining to reach each other while struggling to climb the little mountains that sprang up between them. The Headmaster stood calmly at the foot of Harry's bed, watching the pacing healer with a faint amused smile. He was the picture of serenity, her polar opposite.<p>

Harry watched the scene silently. Eyes tracking Madame Pomfrey's steps, flickering up to see her frown deepen, jumping over to Dumbledore's small smile and twinkling eyes. He'd given up speaking half way through his walk to the infirmary when all that fell out of his mouth was a jumble of nonsense.

"I'm sure you will find a way," said the Headmaster, calmly. "Until that time, Mr. Potter will simply have to live with it. You have determined that it is nothing dangerous, I assume?"

Pomfrey nodded absently, giving a particularly harsh turn as she came back over to Harry's bed. "Of course I did, Albus. The spells only affected his language abilities. He can understand us clearly," at which Harry nodded in confirmation, "but when he tries to reply, either through writing or speech, it's nothing but nonsense. He can't very well go through his classes like it."

"I will speak to the professors about their homework assignments," assured Dumbledore, "no doubt they will be very understanding." Harry snorted, thinking of Snape, but Dumbledore pretending not to hear him. "As for the rest, well, he will just have to learn nonverbal spell a bit sooner than normal. There's nothing to be done about it."

The healer seemed unhappy but nodded, and Dumbledore turned towards Harry with a grin.

"Now then, my boy, off you trot."

Harry kept his mouth shut as he scurried out the door.

* * *

><p>"Harry, there you are!"<p>

Harry turned and was quickly assaulted as Ron and Hermione pounced on him. The rest of the Great Hall had turned away from their lunches and were staring at him. As this wasn't exactly unusual, he managed to ignore them for the most part.

Hermione latched onto his arm and pulled him to a seat beside them. "Are you alright? Didn't Madame Pomfrey fix it?"

He opened his mouth before he could think. "Batman, his arms crossed."

Hermione blinked. Ron gaped. Harry blushed. Nope, definitely not fixed.

"Did you just say Batman?" Hermione asked incredulously. "_The _Batman?"

"Who's Batman?" asked Ron. This time it was Hermione and Harry's turn to stare. Ron looked uncomfortable under their disbelieving looks. "What?"

"You've never heard of Batman? Seriously, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Fred and George at the station," added Harry. He instantly regretted saying anything as the attention was pulled back on him again.

"Seriously, mate, I've got no bloody clue what you're saying," Ron said.

Hermione frowned. "There must be some sort of pattern to it. I suppose I can check the library…"

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><p>Three weeks later and the situation had not been changed. The only thing that had been shifted was Harry's desire to speak. For the first few days he had kept his lips firmly sealed but it soon grew impossible for him to keep quiet. Even if no one else knew what he was saying, <em>he <em>knew. Besides that, he had quickly found the amusement of talking when no one else could understand him and merely gave him funny looks.

Hermione had pounced on the chance to dissect his language while Ron had merely shrugged and soldiered on. And so it had continued for three weeks.

"Good morning, Ron, Harry."

"Morning, Mione."

"Wolf with eyes shut."

Hermione took a seat beside Harry and Ron, dropping a loaded book bag on the bench and picking up a piece of rye to smear jam over. "You're both up rather early," she commented. They both shrugged.

"Lion in the den," said Harry.

"Neville was snoring," said Ron.

Hermione blinked. "What did you just say?"

"Neville was snoring, why?" asked Ron, though it was a bit more muffled through the assortment of bacon and toast tossing around in his mouth. Hermione's nose wrinkled up in distaste for a moment before she quickly turned to Harry.

"No, Harry, what did you say?" she asked.

"Why are you even asking him?" said Ron blithely.

"Because Ron, just listen. Go on Harry, say it again."

Harry shrugged. "Lion in the den," he repeated, taking the time to butter his toast. He looked up just in time to see Hermione's eyes lit up.

"I've just had the most brilliant idea. I've got to go to the library," the girl exclaimed. She was gone from the bench, book bag, toast, and all, before either boy could open their mouth to say 'huh?'

Ron turned to Harry. "You know, some times she scares me."

Harry just nodded.

* * *

><p>"Metaphors!"<p>

"What?" said Ron.

"Neville in Charms," said Harry.

"Metaphors," repeated Hermione, slamming her book bag onto their share potions table. "I've figured it out, Harry. You're speaking in metaphors!"

"What?" said Ron.

"Neville," said Harry.

Hermione threw up her hands, attracting a glare from Snape, who had just entered the classroom. She quieted down at once, but didn't stop whispering at them.

"Metaphors. They're a literary device that compares things. You're speaking in them Harry."

"I have no idea what you are saying right now, Mione," said Ron dully. She shot him an ire filled look.

"Don't be thick you two. It's fairly simple. This morning, you said 'Neville was snoring' and Harry said 'Lions in the den', but what he meant to say was the same as 'Neville was snoring'. Neville was the lion in this instance because lions are loud and the den is obviously your dorm room. Honestly, it is so simple now that I see it. That is what you meant, right Harry? Just nod please."

Harry nodded. That _was _what he had been meaning to say but he was just a bit sad that his joke was up. He'd actually managed to figure out the so-called 'pattern' weeks ago (though he hadn't put the name metaphor to it) but it had been impossible to relay it to Hermione so he hadn't bothered trying.

Hermione smirked smugly. An expression that quickly dropped when Professor Snape appeared scowling over her.

"Miss Granger, please share with the class what is so important that you fail to pay attention in my class."

Hermione gaped, so unused to being called out in trouble for class that she was frozen. Harry couldn't just stand by and watch.

He opened his mouth…

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><p>"I can't believe you called him that, Harry!" said Hermione, as soon as they were out of potions class. Ron was still snickering behind his hand while Harry merely shrugged, feeling utterly pleased with himself. "He gave you detention for a week!"<p>

"Batman with no belt," he said carelessly, not giving a damn if she understood him or not. "Petunia with nose. Neville in Potions. A rat with no fur."

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Harry's words were not the friendly sort – and it only took one Hermione Granger to decifer their true meanings.

She slapped him in the arm. "You can't just go around insulting Professor Snape like that Harry. And he isn't _that _ugly." The boys stop straight. Hermione blushed. "Well, he's not!" she hissed.

"The Joker," said Harry to Ron.

"You said it, mate," agreed the redhead – he'd begun reading Batman at Hermione's insistence (and Harry's ramblings).

And so life went on.

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><p>Two months later, Harry woke up gasping.<p>

"The father, winter's fall!"

"What? Dad's been hurt?"

"Merlin as sun rises!"

"Yeah, you're right, we've got to tell Dumbledore!"

"Monster in the pipes!"

"A snake! Nagini!"

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><p>And later…<p>

"The rat off island," Harry spat, glaring up at Umbridge as his hand bled.

"Less talking, more writing."

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><p>And even later…<p>

They circled each other. Voldemort and Harry. Mano y mano. Wand to wand.

"I'm so going to enjoy killing you, Harry," sneered Voldemort.

"QUIRREL!" screamed Harry.

"What?" said Voldemort.

And Harry's silent stunner hit him smack-dab on the forehead.

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><p>It was the end of term. Harry, for one, was feeling extremely happy. Voldemort was dead – well, not dead, but certainly snogged to death by a dementor and tossed into Azkaban right beside a certain ex-professor with a cat fetish. Harry's final war cry had been printed across headlines in bold. It was becoming increasingly common, even fashionable, to end every toast with a murmur of "Quirrel". Little kids yelled it in the streets as they fought with mock wands. When angry, ladies were known to threaten to "Quirrel" someone. Harry was feeling quite satisfied – his funny bone had grown a lot this year.<p>

The day before there came another reason to celebrate. He'd woken up in his second home, the infirmary, to find a bottle of blue and purple potion on his bedside table. He'd asked Madame Pomfrey about it ("Neville, hand raised") and she'd irritable sniffed that it was 'the cure, you idiot boy' – she was quite angry that he had ended up injured again and wasn't hiding it.

He'd stared at the bottle for a long time, almost surprised to see that a cure actually existed. Nonetheless…

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" asked Hermione for the millionth time as they pulled into the station. He rolled his eyes in exasperation and nodded.

"You're mental, mate," said Ron. "You should just come straight to the Burrow like Mum said."

Harry shook his head. Hermione huffed.

"Well, fine, but you better send a letter about how it goes…and not spend too much time, Harry."

"Yeah, what Mione said," added Ron helpfully. Harry just waved off their concerns and levitated down his suitcase – technically it wasn't legal, but hey, you don't kill a Dark Lord without some perks.

Exiting the train and waving goodbye to his friends, Harry quickly crossed through the barrier separating muggle from magical platforms. He spotted his targets easily and a cat-like grin spread from ear to ear on his face.

"The three little piggies," he muttered. Then, raising his voice. "Piggies!"

Pedestrians turned and stared. Uncle Vernon's face quickly turned an unappealing purplish color. Aunt Petunia looked furious, eyes darting over the people that were staring at the scene. Dudley…well, he didn't seem to get it but was giving a good scowl just in case.

Harry skipped over merrily, yanking his trunk behind him, grinning widely. "Martians on Earth, Piggies! The criminal returns!"

Inside his pocket sat an innocent little potions bottle. He'd use it when he was ready…

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><p><strong>The Translation Guide:<strong>

"Boy, his dinner kept" – Fine

"Batman, his arms crossed" – No

"Fred and George at the station" – You're joking?

"Wolf with eyes shut" – Morning

"Lion in the den" – Neville was snoring

"Batman with no belt…Petunia with nose. Neville in Potions A rat with no fur" – Snape is powerless. He is stuck up, useless, and ugly.

"The Joker" – She's mental

"The father, winter's fall!" – Mr. Weasley's dying!

"Merlin as sun rises!" – Wake up Dumbledore!

"Monster in the pipes!" – It was Nagini!

"The rat off island" – This is illegal.

"QUIRREL!" – DIE!

"Piggies!" – Piggies!


End file.
